The oppressive weight of Hell grew thicker as Sariel, Azrael, and Remiel pressed forward. The whispers had faded, but the silence they left in their wake was almost worse. It was a silence that carried the weight of unseen eyes, of something waiting just beyond the veil of shadows.

  Sariel’s mind lingered on the hellhound’s words. He watches you.

  Lucifer.

  The Prince of this Place.

  The thought sent a shudder through her. She had never encountered him, only heard the songs of his fall, the lamentations of those who mourned what he had once been. He had been magnificent, a being of unparalleled beauty and wisdom. Now, he was the ruler of the forsaken, the architect of the great rebellion. And he knew she was here.

  "How does he know?" she murmured.

  Azrael, walking a few paces ahead, didn’t turn. "He always knows."

  Remiel frowned. "That’s not an answer."

  Azrael sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Lucifer isn’t just a fallen angel. He is Hell. His presence is woven into the very fabric of this realm. When you arrived, he would have felt it."

  "Then why wait?" Sariel asked. "If he wants to speak with me, why not summon me already?"

  Azrael smirked. "Because it’s Lucifer. He likes games. He likes to let the fear settle in first."

  Remiel shifted uneasily. "I don’t like this."

  Sariel didn’t either. But fear was useless now.

  Ahead, the landscape twisted into jagged formations—black spires of obsidian that jutted from the cracked ground like the broken ribs of a dead god. Between them, a ruined temple stood, its archways crumbling but still grand, a testament to something ancient.

  Azrael halted. "We should stop here for now."

  Sariel looked at him. "Why?"

  Azrael gestured toward the temple. "It’s neutral ground."

  "Neutral?" Remiel scoffed. "In Hell?"

  Azrael’s silver eyes darkened. "Even here, there are places that are neither ruled by Lucifer nor the damned. This temple is one of them."

  Sariel studied the structure. There was something about it, something familiar. Though broken and worn, the engravings along the stone columns whispered of a time before the Fall, before division and exile.

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  She stepped forward, running her fingers over the carvings. The symbols were old, predating even the rebellion. They spoke of creation, of the first light, of the harmony that once was.

  "This was a place of worship," she murmured.

  Azrael nodded. "Long ago. Before war reached even this realm."

  They entered cautiously. The inside was vast, the high ceilings cracked but still holding. Faint remnants of celestial energy hummed in the air, a stark contrast to the despair that clung to most of Hell.

  "This place is…" Remiel hesitated, searching for the right word.

  "Unspoiled," Sariel finished for him. "Or as close as anything in Hell can be."

  Azrael exhaled. "Don’t get too comfortable. It may be neutral, but nothing in Hell is ever truly safe."

  Sariel moved further inside, her footsteps echoing against the cold stone. She felt something stir within her, something long buried.

  Then, the air shifted.

  The temperature dropped, the shadows stretched unnaturally, and a presence unfolded around them.

  Azrael cursed. "Well… that didn’t take long."

  A figure emerged from the darkness beyond the altar, stepping into view with the grace of a king.

  Lucifer.

  He was tall, taller than any of them, his form carved from perfection itself. His skin was pale, his features sharp, his golden hair framing a face that was both breathtaking and terrifying. His eyes—once bright as the morning star—now burned with a dark, endless fire. His wings, vast and terrible, shimmered with a beauty that defied reason, even in their corruption.

  A slow, knowing smile touched his lips.

  "Sariel."

  Her name rolled off his tongue like a melody, smooth and deliberate.

  Sariel stood her ground. "Lucifer."

  His smile widened, but it did not reach his eyes. "I have been expecting you."

  She met his gaze evenly. "You summoned me."

  Lucifer chuckled, stepping closer. "No, little cherub. You summoned yourself."

  Sariel frowned. "What do you mean?"

  Lucifer tilted his head. "You were cast into my domain, yet you resist its pull. You seek purpose where none is given. And that… intrigues me."

  Azrael shifted uncomfortably. "He’s playing with you."

  Lucifer’s gaze flicked to him, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Ah, Azrael. Ever the cynic. You wound me."

  Azrael snorted. "If only."

  Lucifer turned back to Sariel. "You have a choice, you know."

  Sariel narrowed her eyes. "A choice?"

  Lucifer stepped closer, his presence nearly suffocating. "You do not belong here. And yet, you are here. I could offer you something better than exile. A place. A purpose."

  Sariel’s heart pounded. "You want me to serve you."

  Lucifer’s smirk was slow and deliberate. "I want you to decide. Because, unlike Him, I do not demand blind obedience."

  The implication was clear.

  Sariel felt Remiel tense beside her. Azrael exhaled sharply, already knowing where this was going.

  Lucifer spread his arms. "Think on it, Sariel. You were cast out for neutrality. But here, you may choose. And I reward those who choose wisely."

  His eyes lingered on her for a moment longer before he turned, his form beginning to fade into the shadows.

  "But do not take too long," his voice echoed. "The longer you hesitate, the more you lose."

  And then he was gone.

  Silence fell, thick and suffocating.

  Remiel was the first to break it. "We need to leave. Now."

  Azrael nodded. "Agreed."

  Sariel remained still, her mind spinning.

  Lucifer had just offered her something. A purpose.

  But at what cost?

  As they stepped out of the ruined temple, she couldn’t shake the feeling that her fall was only the beginning.